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The Ministry of Angels PDF

92 Pages·2009·0.25 MB·English
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“The angels keep their ancient places”. - THOMPSON. Our Angels go with us the whole of the way That we travel to God in our garments of clay, And their hands are in ours, and our hearts are aglow With the vision of Him they prefigure below; Till we pass through the portals of death, and we find They have compassed our feet from before and behind. They that stood at the cradle, go down to the grave, To direct and admonish, to serve and to save; And when once we have seen them, tho’ only in dream, Like Columbus of old we shall follow the gleam. And sail on unafeared o’er an ocean of fate, Where we come to our own, and the goal they await. And it is in the light that our Angels shall shed On the hearth and the home, by the board and the bed, We shall see them again, in the fullness of life, That went down to their death in the darkness of strife; As we rend the illusion of race and of dim*, Bridge over the chasms of death and of time, And arise on the paths of progression, and learn Of the vistas that stretch, of the beacons that burn, Just beyond the dark portals of death and of sleep That a dream may illumine, a vision may keep; And we waken and watch, and we toil and we pray And we ponder afresh on the Word and the Way. E. M. HOLDEN THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS HERE AND BEYOND by Mrs. JOY SNELL with Foreword By The Late Rev. ARTHUR CHAMBERS Vicar of Brockenhurst, Hants “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy” First published, April, 1918 Reprinted, August, 1918, February, 1919, October, 1919, 1920, 1925, 1928 Reprinted by The Greater World Association, November, 1950 Reprinted August, 1963 Reprinted July, 1973 FOREWORD Every believer in the statements of the Bible and in the teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ is committed to an acknowledgment of the truth, that there is a Ministry of Angels. Angelic interposition in the affairs of mankind, and, in particular, in the circumstances of Christ’s life on earth, is so essentially a part of the Christian religion as to be inseparable from it. But there are many Christians whose grasp of this inspiring truth is very indefinite. They believe—and would be very upset were anyone to hint that they do not believe—that Angels ma- nifested at the Birth, Temptation, Transfiguration, Agony, and Resurrection of Jesus; that Moses and Elijah were seen and heard, on a mountain of Galilee, long after they had passed into the Arisen Life; and that a “fellow servant” of the aged St. John appeared from out the Other- Life to him in his exile. (REV. xxii, 8 and 9). But all this happened a long time ago; and so the professed belief in Angelic Ministration is viewed as having little or no practical value as far as the experiences of mankind living in the twentieth century are concerned. The average church-going, or chapel-going, Christian who sings: “Angels of Jesus, Angels of Light, Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night!” looks very incredulously at anyone who testifies that he has seen a messenger from the World of Spirit. In regard to such, and to others whose ideas are dim and shadowy, this work will do much good, I think. It will set some thinking that there may be “more things in heaven and earth than they had dreamed of in their philosophy”; that in respect to Spiritual Realities the words: “As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be” have a greater signification than they had hitherto supposed, and that Angelic Ministry is no less a fact of present-day experiences than it was in the time when Bible-writers lived. I think no careful and open-minded reader will peruse this simple and impressively written narrative of personal experiences without obtaining a fuller idea of the love and concernfulness of the All-Father God for His creatures here on earth; an extended view of the possibilities of existence; and a comfort and inspiration, which arises from the knowledge - inborn upon us from so many sources - that as we pass through the educative and restricted life of the Physical to the higher and fuller life of the Spiritual, we are not left unattended and unaided; that whether seen, or unseen, by us now, there are with us those Spiritual Ministers of God who “do His pleasure”. ARTHUR CHAMBERS, (Vicar of Brockenhurst, Hants). Author of “Our Life after Death”, “Man and the Spiritual World”, “Thoughts of the Spiritual”, “Problems of the Spiritual”, “Our Self after Death”. DEDICATED TO THOSE WHO MOURN THEIR DEAD PREFACE This little book records what a woman has learned of the Ministry of Angels on earth, and of life in other spheres of existence beyond this world. It has been written because angels have told her that rare psychic powers have been bestowed on her, and she has been permitted to see what is hidden from the vast majority of mankind until after death, that she might tell others something of what has been revealed to her. It is now sent forth in the earnest hope that it may be the means of bringing comfort to some of the millions in many lands who mourn their dead. THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS I The first of my many strange experiences, from which I long ago learned that at times I see things which to most people are invisible, and hear sounds which to them are inaudible, occurred when I was twelve years old. With a brother two years older than myself, I was then living with an aunt in the north of Ireland. My father, a captain in the British army, was stationed in India. I awoke one night to find the room filled with light, as though flooded with sunlight, and pervaded by a delicious odour such as emanates from the most exquisitely fragrant flowers, but the fragrance was imbued with an exhilarating quality that is not possessed by any perfume with which I am acquainted. I heard a rushing sound, like that which might be made by the beating of many wings, and suddenly there appeared, standing in the middle of the room, two forms. One was that of a man, the other that of a woman. They were clad in shining white robes. Around the head of each was a bright halo. The man stretched forth his hand and said : “Be not dismayed; blessed shalt thou be”, Then the woman spoke and said: “Behold the Saviour! And I am His mother”. The face of the man was bearded and his hair was long, falling below the shoulders; both beard and hair were of a reddish hue. The features closely resembled those of the traditional portraits of the Saviour. But in most of them the predominant expression is one of sadness, while the face which beheld expressed joy far beyond that which I have ever seen depicted on any human face. And yet there was that about it which proclaimed infinite compassion. The face of the woman was of an oval type, very beautiful and aglow with love and tenderness. It was that which impressed me more than its beauty. The figures slowly faded from my sight and the room was again dark. I was possessed by the feeling that the vision foreboded my own speedy death. For an hour or more I paced the floor with a beating heart, striving vainly to resign myself to that which I believed was inevitable. Then I became more composed and returned to my bed, but not to sleep, for I feared that I should not live to see the light of another day. For three or four days this fear of impending death haunted me. A very dear friend, a sweet old Scotch lady whom everybody loved and in whom everybody confided, noticed that I was looking troubled and asked me what ailed me. I told her of the vision I had seen and that I was afraid it portended my death. “Have no fear, lassie”, she said. “It was not to warn you of your death that vision was given you. You have what is called the psychic gift, and many things will be shown you which others cannot see”. She told me that she had seen many visions, and to her, too, the Saviour had appeared. “They are well guided whom God guides”, she said “and you have nothing to fear. But”, she added, “I would advise you to keep these things to yourself. Treasure them up as sacred in your own heart, for there are few who would understand them”. After this it seemed to me that I was seldom along. I became conscious that there was with me a loving, seeking ever, it appeared to me, to guide me aright. I began to hear strains of music that were not of this earth, but more glorious far! Often I could hear voices, thousands of them, it seemed to me, singing songs of praise and blending with the notes of some mighty celestial organ. At times it would sound loud and clear, as though close at hand, and then it would gradually diminish in volume, until it was scarcely audible. And then it would swell again, resonant, jubilant, triumphant. I heard this heavenly music, for so I always regarded it, at all sorts of times and in all sorts of places - by day and by night, when alone or with others, in the house or out of doors. This music I have heard at intervals ever since. I told my brother and a few friends in whom I could confide without bringing ridicule upon me, of the wonderful music that I heard, but even when it sounded loudest and clearest in my ears, none of them could hear it. It is in the impression it conveys of joyousness that it differs most from human music. No earthly music that I have ever heard is half so gladsome. Listening to it, one feels that it expresses a state of happiness, of faith in divine love that is seldom if ever realized here. And always when I hear this music it is accompanied by that same exhilarating fragrance that pervaded the room wherein I beheld my first vision. Until I was nearly eighteen no other vision came to me. Meanwhile, except for hearing the glad music of unseen voices and instruments, and the sense of a protecting presence ever near me, my life was that of most healthy, high-spirited girls in comfortable circumstances. Very happy I was in those days. My friends bestowed upon me the nickname of “Cheery”. I awoke one night out of a sound sleep to find the room filled with light, although there was no light burning in it, and standing by my bedside was my dearest girl friend, Maggie. Addressing me by name she said: “I have a secret to tell you. I know that I am going over to the other world before long and I want you to be with me at the last and help to comfort my mother when I am gone”. Before I had sufficiently recovered from my fear and amazement to make any response she vanished and the light slowly faded from the room. I told the dear old Scotch lady what I had seen. “Trust to the guidance which you will receive”, she said. “If Maggie is to die in your arms, without your seeking, matters will be so arranged that you will be with her at the last”. A week later I was summoned to my friend’s home. I found her suffering from a feverish cold, but there was nothing in her condition to cause alarm. She had no presentiment of impending death. And it was obvious to me that she had no remembrance of the visit she had paid me in her spirit form. Therein lies a mystery of which I can suggest no explanation. In the course of my life, I have seen several apparitions of people who were still living on the earth-plane of existence. To some of them I have spoken, and some of them have spoken to me; but subsequently I have always found that they themselves, in the body, had no knowledge or remembrance of such communications with me. Maggie’s mother was called away to see a sister living at some distance who was seriously ill, and she asked me to stay with her daughter while she was absent. I had been with Maggie only three or four days when, one night, she was suddenly taken very ill. She expired in my arms before the doctor who had been summoned could reach her. It was the first death that I had witnessed. Immediately after her heart had ceased to beat, I distinctly saw something in appearance like smoke, or steam as it rises from a kettle in which the water is boiling, ascend from her body. This emanation rose only a little distance and there resolved itself into a form like that of my friend who had just died. This form, shadowy at first, gradually changed until it became well defined and clad in a pearly white, cloud-like robe, beneath which the outlines of the figure were distinctly visible. The face was that of my friend but glorified, with no trace upon it of the spasm of pain which had seized her just before she died. After I became a professional nurse, a vocation which I followed for some twenty years, I witnessed scores of deaths. And always, immediately afterwards, I saw the spirit form, in appearance an etheralized duplicate of the human form, take shape above the body in which life had become extinct, and then vanish from my sight. II When I was twenty years old my father returned from India, bought a beautiful little place in Ireland and there settled down. As a child of three I had parted from him in India, after my mother’s death there. But though seventeen years had elapsed since I had seen him, it was not as strangers that we met. He had long been the hero of my girlish dreams, and in him these dreams were more than realized. Dearly I loved him and that love he returned in full measure. We were constantly together and we were the best of friends and companions. My brother, too, was all that a brother could be. For two years my cup of happiness seemed filled to the brim. Meanwhile, more acute grew the feeling of someone, unseen, tender, loving, protecting, ever with me. So close, so real did this presence seem to me at times that often I fancied I could feel a breath upon my cheek and hear a whisper at my ear, and I would turn sharply around, fully expecting to see someone. Then there came a change. I became possessed of a feeling that something dreadful was going to happen to my father. This oppressive sense of impending disaster was strongest upon me when I was most keenly conscious of the presence of my unseen mentor. It seemed to me then that someone was striving to prepare me for an ordeal which could not be averted. But my father appeared to be in his usual health and buoyant spirits. There was nothing apparent to justify my anxiety concerning him. Some three or four weeks after this dread foreboding had come to me, I was sitting one night before the open window of my bedroom, inhaling the cool, exhilarating October air and enjoying the serene majesty of the night. Suddenly I heard my father’s voice calling me by name and bidding me come to him. Then I lost all consciousness of my surroundings and a vision came to me. I saw my father lying in the garden, fully dressed and seemingly asleep. It was broad daylight. Along the road two friends were approaching the house. They were Dr.___, our family physician, and his brother. They were in the habit of dropping in at odd times. I saw them enter the garden gate and then, apparently catching sight of my father, run to him. One of them raised his head, and the other, the doctor, unfastened his collar and necktie and thrust a hand into his breast. “He has gone”, I heard the doctor say, “He must have passed away without a moment’s pain. But who will tell his daughter? I cannot!”. Then the vision vanished and I became aware that I was still sitting at the open window. I lit a lamp and went to my father’s bedroom, gently opened the door, and listened. I heard the deep, regular breathing that denotes sound slumber. I entered the room and walked softly to the bedside. I knelt there and prayed fervently that my father might be spared to me. But it was with a heart as heavy as when I entered the room that I left it, so strong was my conviction that that which I had seen in the vision would soon come to pass. I did not return to bed that night, for the dread fear that possessed me had banished all possibility of sleep; but it was with a smile that I greeted my father at the breakfast table next morning, for I was resolved that no shadow of my anxiety and despair should fall upon him. And he was as cheerful, tender, loving and companionable as he had always been. He left the house at two o’clock that afternoon for a walk, telling me he would be back at four to take tea with me. Before going he kissed me affectionately, as he always did when leaving me, even for a short time; but I felt that never again on earth should I receive a kiss from those dear lips. I betook myself to my room to await the blow that I knew was soon to fall. About half-past three a man-servant came in hastily and asked me if I knew where “the master” was. A little later the other man-servant asked me the same question. Then the stableman of a military friend came in, looking

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committed to an acknowledgment of the truth, that there is a Ministry of This little book records what a woman has learned of the Ministry of Angels
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Most books are stored in the elastic cloud where traffic is expensive. For this reason, we have a limit on daily download.